Triggers: a poem about sudden changes

What pulls the trigger, flicks the switch?

Turns me into devil or witch?

All that’s positive, all that’s good

banished to hell and bathed in blood.

Search for balance, search for worth,

ways to banish the inner curse,

seek the good of self before birth.

Before rejection – before the pain

before abuse and negative gain.

When evil rears its ugly head

all positive thoughts remain unsaid:

no happy heart, no peaceful soul

no reasoned mind to deflect its goal;

darkest thoughts in darkest cell

no glimmer of light within the hell;

no breath of air just stifled heart

no wings of hope for new-born start.

All efforts now to begin anew

wearying, crushing, exhausting to do.

Tears come far easier than resolve ever does

cutting or overdose a much better option;

so lonely inside myself, hating what I find,

inadequacies of body, inadequacies of mind

can’t look forward, don’t want to look back

don’t want to face all the things that I lack.

Where is the me that sees what is good?

Will it come back before blood is spilled?

Why just the me that knows all the ills?

When can I banish the me that kills?